


Stranger In This Town

by seratonation



Series: Stranger In This Town [1]
Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco, The Academy Is...
Genre: Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Established Relationship, M/M, Shall We Dance AU, Yoga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-28
Updated: 2009-02-28
Packaged: 2017-11-03 08:18:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/379272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seratonation/pseuds/seratonation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It was an idyllic sort of life. He had a secure job, a substantial paycheck, and a loving husband. And yet, Spencer felt tired. He felt numb, like everything around him was fading, or maybe it was the other way around, and he was the one who was fading.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stranger In This Town

**Author's Note:**

> so a while back, tardis80 put up a post that said It's like Shall We Dance? but with yoga! and I said omg I think I can do that. And so I started writing, and it was finished in a few days and I’m thinking I have more, and then it turned to this. I _still_ have more for this verse, there’s definitely a Jon coda that needs major editing, and a few more ideas floating around. My muse has decided to live here. I’m not really complaining. :D 
> 
> Thank you to tardis80 for the idea and the fantastic beta job, I cannot put in to words just how awesome she is (I could try, but I’d end up flailing). Thanks to liamar13 for the hand holding, as well as the final read though, and nunshavingfun for the encouragement.

Spencer Smith had a normal life. Some people might even call it boring. Spencer Smith would not call it boring because that wouldn’t be fair. 

Nevertheless, his life was... routine. He’d wake up in the morning, start the coffee maker and go for a shower. He would get dressed and then wake up Brendon, pour some coffee in his travel mug and leave for work. 

He liked his job. It wasn’t for everyone, and not many would call it interesting, but there was something strangely satisfying about seeing all the numbers add up. 

He finished work at 5:30 every day; he’d walk to the train station and catch the 6:00 train home. When he got home, he’d have a quiet dinner with Brendon, watch an hour of TV and go to sleep. Brendon would stay up a bit longer and then follow. 

The next day they’d do it all over again. They went shopping on Saturdays and had sex on Sundays. It was an idyllic sort of life. He had a secure job, a substantial paycheck, and a loving husband. And yet, Spencer felt tired. He felt numb, like everything around him was fading, or maybe it was the other way around, and he was the one who was fading.

This is not what he thought the rest of his life would be like when he graduated. He’d been different back then. Brendon had been different too. _Life_ had been different. They had gone out more, especially when he was wooing Brendon, they’d had more friends, or at least more time to have friends, and now everyone had jobs, or kids, or both, and no time. 

He wasn’t bored exactly, and he still loved Brendon, with all his heart, but it felt like something was missing. He was weary, and he didn’t know how to fix it. He felt like he needed a break from it all. 

He sighed and took a look past the tracks at the building across the road. There was a light in the second floor studio, the one that used to be a dance class. 

He saw a man standing in the window. He looked about Spencer’s age, and was tall and slim with dark eyes and pale skin; attractive, the type of guy Spencer could have gone for in a past life. But the thing that made him pause wasn’t the man’s face or body. He was poised, graceful enough to be a dancer, but something about the tense set of his shoulders spoke of an inexplicable sadness. Before he knew what he was doing, Spencer was exiting the station and crossing the street. He didn’t know if the stranger in the window could help him, or if it would be the other way around, but he felt like maybe, they could understand each other. 

Spencer paused at the front of the building. A sign advertised _Ashtanga yoga, Ryan Ross, 2nd floor_. Spencer didn’t think he’d ever heard of him. He wondered if Ryan was the man in the window. He walked in and up a flight of stairs and to the right, where he knew the studio would be. A matching sign on the door asked Spencer to _see inside for details_. He bit his lip and walked in. 

“Can I help you?” the man he’d seen from the window asked, approaching him. 

Spencer shoved his hands in his pockets. “I was wondering if you could tell me more? The sign said to ask...” he trailed off but the man was nodding. 

He smiled and Spencer saw the sadness disappear for a moment. “I’m Ryan,” he said, “I teach Ashtanga yoga. There are three or four sessions every day, which you can pay for at every class you show up to, or, if you plan to do this long-term, there are several package deals.” He handed Spencer a sheet of paper with a timetable and a list of prices. “It's just me and William here at the moment,” he said as he pointed to another man, tall and skinny with glasses, “and you can come to any session that suits you.” He paused, “Are you interested?”

Spencer only hesitated a moment. “So, if I only want to come in once a week…” 

“That’s fine,” Ryan said. 

He took a breath. “Yeah, yeah, sign me up.” 

“I’ll need you to do a couple of stretches for me, just to see which level I should place you at.” 

“Okay, just show me what to do.” 

Ryan had him change into more appropriate clothing, borrowed for the day. “You’ll have to get your own next time.” 

He then had Spencer run through a set of stretches, from standing on his tip toes and extending his hands above his head, to sitting cross-legged on a mat in what Ryan called the lotus position. He had a bit of trouble. He hadn’t sat cross-legged since he was a kid.

“You’ll have to start with William,” Ryan said when he was done, “I don’t think your body can cope with the full sequence yet, maybe three or four weeks and then you can move up.” 

Spencer was feeling very slow. “So how does that work exactly?” 

“Classes are pretty casual. We start with a mantra, and then I'll stand at the front of the class and lead it through a set sequence of positions or _asanas_. William and I will circle and help those who are having trouble. Since you're new, William will teach you the most basic positions first.” Ryan pulled out a couple of pamphlets and handed them to Spencer. “Ashtanga is a lifestyle, a philosophy, not just a one hour class; I strongly recommend you read these, about the history and background, to get the full benefit.”

“Take them,” William advised, walking by with a couple of mats in his arms, “if he starts talking we’ll never start the class.” 

Ryan aimed a frown at Williams back, but his eyes looked amused, so Spencer smiled and took the pamphlets. 

“I just need you to fill in this form as well,” he said, and handed Spencer a clipboard. 

It was a lot to take in, and very different from anything he'd ever done before. But it felt right, like it could help him, so he filled in the form Ryan told him to, neatly printing his name, contact number, and medical concerns. Then he called Brendon and told him he was going to be late, and that he should have dinner without him. Brendon didn’t ask for an explanation and Spencer didn’t offer one.

*** 

When Spencer got home, the porch light was off. Brendon’s car was in the garage. “Hey, I’m home,” he called softly from the hallway. He heard an answering call from the sofa, along with the sounds of television. Dinner was wrapped in plastic on the kitchen counter. Spencer put it in the microwave for a couple of minutes and ate alone at the table before going to join Brendon in the living room. 

“They started us on a training program at work,” he said. 

Brendon glanced at him then turned back to the screen so Spencer kept going. “It’s going to be every Wednesday from now on.” 

“For how long?” Brendon asked, his voice noncommittal. 

“I don’t know,” he said, truthfully. 

“Okay ,” Brendon said and turned back to focus on the TV. Maybe Spencer was just imagining it, but it felt like Brendon wasn’t okay with it. He couldn’t tell him the truth though, not without having to explain why he needed this break from his life. He didn’t know how he’d explain that he wanted something that belonged to him alone, separate from everything. He couldn’t even explain it to himself yet, this tightness, this inability to breathe. Something about the air of the studio had been freeing. He didn’t know if it was the incense or just the calm, peaceful way Ryan had talked and moved. But it made him want to keep this a secret for just a bit longer. He wasn’t even sure if it was going to work, so why stir up trouble for something that meant nothing? 

*** 

“So what brings you to the Academy?” Ryan asked. 

They were both sitting in the train station after class, waiting to go home. Ryan was catching the other train, while William stayed to give more help to those who wanted it before closing down. 

You couldn't really call it a ‘station’; it was more of a platform that overlooked the tracks, the street and the building across from it, where the Yoga Academy was. The sun was in the last stages of setting, its dying rays warming Spencer's sore muscles.

Spencer gave a sideways glance at Ryan. “I'm not really sure,” he said, and it was the truth, “I guess I felt like there was something missing or maybe there was too much, I'm not sure how to explain it exactly.” 

But Ryan was nodding along. “And do you feel like yoga has helped? Is helping?” 

Spencer gave a small half-smile. “I’ve only been twice, isn’t it too early?” 

Ryan shrugged. “Some people see change instantly, but with others it’s so gradual they don’t realize it until it’s pointed out to them by someone else.”

“How was it like for you?” Spencer asked curiously. 

“It was instant for me,” Ryan replied, giving a small smile of his own, “the moment I started I felt the change come over me. It was really great, but like I said, it’s different for different people.” 

There was a low rumbling that turned out to be Spencer's train. They said their goodbyes and Spencer went home. 

*** 

It was Wednesday evening and Spencer was standing outside the door of the Academy. This was his third week and he was still sore from the last session. He was debating if he really wanted to keep doing this when the door opened and he saw William standing in the entrance way. 

“You coming in or what?” William asked him, leaning against the door. 

“Not sure,” Spencer said. 

“You’re still sore aren’t you?” 

Spencer smiled, a little embarrassed. 

“It’s okay, most people are the first month, unless you’re a freak of nature like Ryan here who somehow doesn’t feel pain.” William stumbled a little and Spencer saw Ryan behind him. 

“I’m not a freak of nature,” he said, but William only threw a grin over his shoulder, before turning back to Spencer. 

“Come on,” he said, “and maybe I can give you some private lessons later.” He waggled his eyebrows and Spencer felt a tiny blush creep up his neck. He held up his left hand, showing William his wedding ring. 

“Damn,” William said, “that’s one lucky girl.” 

“Guy, actually,” Spencer said. 

William sighed. “Why are all the good ones always taken?” 

*** 

“Hey, Ryan?” They were in the train station, waiting for their respective trains again. 

“Yeah?” 

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Spencer said quickly. He was aware it was sort of a personal question. 

But Ryan nodded. “Sure, go ahead.” 

“What were you like? Before? You said that you felt a change instantly, what did you change from?” Then Spencer laughed. “Makes it sound like you’re a werewolf or something.” 

“I get what you mean,” Ryan said, smiling, pulling at a strand of hair, “I used to be a workaholic, very ambitious, but stressed all the time. I was a journalist for the Chicago Sun-Times, I did crime stories: abductions, murders, all that. The state of the world, it gets you down sometimes.” 

“How did you find yoga? What brought you to it?” 

Ryan seemed to think it over, as if unsure where to start. When he did it was hesitant. “There was this one story, about this little girl, only five years old, who got kidnapped and killed.” He paused, “They never found the perp, and the police gave up when there were no leads, they just closed the case. I had to go and interview her _mother_.” Ryan stopped, and took a breath. “I wanted to quit right after that story, but Bill mentioned yoga. He’d gotten really in to it, and he seemed to enjoy it, and he suggested I should try it out, that it would help me relax, to think clearly.”

“But, how did you start teaching it?” 

“It became a passion,” he said, “Work at the newspaper couldn't hold my interest anymore. My articles stopped being that great. I stopped being so thorough in my research and when, a couple of years later, the boss gave a me a choice of either fixing my problem or getting fired…” he shrugged and gave a small smile, “can’t fix the world. I got my teacher certification pretty quick, and then Bill and I started the Academy shortly after.” 

“How? I mean, doesn’t it cost money to do so much?” 

“My granddad left me all this money when he passed away, said that I had to spend it on something I was passionate about, and I don’t know, I guess I was saving it for when I quit my job to write the great American novel or something, but this seemed to fit. Our friend Gabe joined not long after and people were interested.” He shrugged again, like it was no big deal to start up your own business and then sustain it. 

*** 

When Bill got back to the apartment, he cornered Ryan. “I saw you talking to Spencer,” he said, leaning in the doorway to Ryan’s bedroom, arms crossed. 

“Okay,” Ryan said in his best monotone, pulling out his pajamas. 

“You know he’s married right?” Bill continued, “I saw the ring.” 

“You flirted with him and he showed you the ring,” Ryan said, “there’s a difference.” 

“Which only presses the point, he is married.” 

“Yes, and?” 

“What are your intentions?” Bill said, raising an eyebrow. 

“What are you? His mother?” Ryan said, just the right note in his voice so that Bill knew he was kidding, “you’re _my_ best friend, remember?” 

“I know that,” Bill said, uncrossing his arms and walking into the room, “I just don’t want you to get hurt.” 

“Don’t worry,” Ryan said, turning to look Bill in the face, “I’m just making a new friend, there’s something about him, like I know him already.” 

Bill inspected him for a moment longer. “Past life, my friend,” Bill replied, once he was convinced that Ryan wasn’t getting himself in trouble, “you probably did know him.” He pointed at Ryan, winked at him, and left the room. 

*** 

It was hard for Spencer, at the beginning. It was hard lying to Brendon, it was hard breaking the routine and it was fucking hard to bend his legs that way. But he loved every minute of it. It sent blood rushing to parts of him that had lain dormant for what felt like forever. It was a break from the monotony. And as much as he hated to admit it, it was a break from Brendon.

Brendon used to be an over excitable, easily amused young thing and Spencer had fallen in love with what had seemed like his unending energy. Then real life had struck. After what people called ‘the honeymoon phase’ Brendon had settled down, as if he was tired. Spencer missed that energy, but he couldn’t tell Brendon. What could he say? ‘Why did you grow up?’

That wasn’t fair, because they’d both grown up, and half the blame lay squarely on Spencer’s shoulders because he had trouble expressing his feelings and he should feel lucky that Brendon was still around. 

Spencer came to this realization during the third session’s meditation, and he wondered if he should do something about it, show Brendon that he was still appreciated. 

That night he ate his dinner next to Brendon in the living room. When he was done, he tucked his legs underneath him, and leaned into Brendon, resting his head on Brendon’s shoulder and curling their arms together. Brendon gave him a sideways glance but didn’t say anything. 

Spencer must’ve fallen asleep because the next thing he remembered was Brendon shaking him awake. “Time for bed.” 

Spencer blinked a few times and then nodded, letting Brendon help him up and direct him to the bedroom. Once in bed, he curled himself around Brendon’s smaller frame. “I miss you,” he whispered. 

Brendon laced his hand through Spencer's, intertwining their fingers and resting them against his chest. “I’m right here, I haven’t gone anywhere.” 

“I know,” Spencer whispered, squeezing his hand and pulling Brendon closer. 

 

*** 

“Congratulations” Ryan said, approaching Spencer as he got up at the end of class. Spencer wasn't sure how it happened, but it had become a regular thing with them; Spencer and Ryan would leave class together and talk on the platform while waiting for their respective trains.

“You’ve been here a month.” 

Spencer looked up at him and smiled wryly. “Thanks.” 

“How are you finding it?” Ryan asked, as they walked to the coat rack. 

“Really great actually,” Spencer said, putting his jacket on. 

Ryan smiled. “I think you’re ready to prep for the Sirsasana if you feel up for it,” he said once they were outside. 

“Really?” Spencer asked, excited. 

“Yeah,” Ryan said, “and next week, don’t be afraid to try the Prasarita Padottanasana position. I think you can handle it now.” 

Spencer grinned. “Awesome.” 

There was a comfortable lull in the conversation as they walked up the stairs to the train platform. 

“What does your partner think about all this?” Ryan asked when they sat down, “has he noticed any changes?” 

Spencer pursed his lips. “Brendon doesn’t know,” he looked at his ring as if it represented Brendon, which in a way it did. “I haven’t actually told him.” 

Ryan frowned. “You should really tell him.” 

Spencer sighed. “I know, I just really enjoy this as my own thing, you know?” 

“I understand.” If it had been anybody else, that would’ve sounded awkward, but Ryan made it sound honest. “But yoga isn’t just a one hour session every week, it’s a lifestyle, and lying- especially to your spouse- it darkens the soul.” 

“When you put it like that…” Spencer said, trailing off. Call him selfish but he was enjoying having this; having yoga, the academy, Ryan and William all to himself, and he wasn’t ready to share it just yet. 

*** 

“So what do you do at this training thing anyway?” Brendon asked one Tuesday evening. 

“It’s a seminar thing,” Spencer said, waving a fork, “they basically tell us how to do our jobs better.” 

“I bet Butcher loved that,” Brendon said, grinning. 

Spencer laughed. Maybe it was Brendon's imagination, but he wouldn’t meet Brendon's eyes. “Are you enjoying it?” 

“Yeah, it’s okay, I guess,” Spencer said, “but how about you? Aren’t exams coming up soon?” 

Brendon didn’t miss the sudden change of subject, but went with it, telling Spencer about Greta and Bob and his class. 

If something was wrong, Spencer would tell him. There was a little voice in his head that asked _Would he? When was the last time you had a proper conversation anyway? You can’t even remember, can you?_ But Brendon blocked the voice out. If something was wrong, he’d know. _He’d know._

*** 

“Now, assume the Savasana pose, and when you’re ready, you may get up and rejoin the world.” 

Spencer was almost last. He was lying there, thinking about when he first met Brendon, and when he’d proposed. After all this time, after all that had happened, he didn’t regret it. Asking Brendon to marry him had been the best decision of his life. He just wondered if Brendon thought the same thing about him. 

Later, as they walked to the train station, Spencer noticed Ryan grinning at him. He was probably amused by the way Spencer was trying to hide how sore he actually was. 

“What?” Spencer asked anyway. 

“How did you find it?” Ryan asked, still grinning.

“Pretty good, I just wish I wasn’t sore all over again,” he said, stretching his back, “It’s like finding all new dimensions of pain.” 

“Once you pass that barrier, you’ll find new realms of pleasure too,” Ryan said in complete sincerity, “remember how you felt those first couple of weeks?” 

Spencer nodded. 

“It’s like that,” Ryan explained, “once you get past the new pain barrier, it gets really good.” 

Spencer smiled because he believed it. 

“So,” Ryan hesitated, “have you told Brendon yet?” 

Spencer licked his lips. “Not exactly.” 

“And by _not exactly_ you mean?” 

“Not at all,” he muttered, lowering his head. 

“You have to tell him, secrets-” 

“I know, I know darken the soul,” Spencer said, rolling his eyes. 

Ryan frowned. “I was going to say get bigger the longer you keep them to yourself.” 

Spencer closed his eyes. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay, just consider it. You are getting happier with yourself, don’t you want to share that happiness with him?” 

“Yeah, but I don’t know how he’ll react. What if he’s upset that I got happy from somewhere else that wasn’t him? What if he realizes that he’s not happy either and decides to go find it somewhere else, without me?” 

“Don’t you think he’s wondering the same thing about you?” 

*** 

Spencer ate his dinner cross-legged on the couch (damn William, he couldn’t sit normally anymore) and when he was done he lay his head down on Brendon's lap. Brendon pet his hair a few times, fingered the shell of his ear and then laid his hand on Spencer's waist. 

“You okay?” he asked. 

“Mm,” Spencer said, “just tired.” 

“Okay.” He could hear the smile on Brendon's lips. 

“Wake me up when you hafta get up?” Spencer said, feeling his eyelids grow heavy even as he said it. 

“I will.” 

And with that, Spencer allowed himself to fall asleep. 

*** 

“So you never told me,” Spencer said when he and Ryan were out in the cold one day after class, “Why did you leave Chicago?” 

“Personal reasons,” Ryan muttered, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets and looking at the ground. 

“Oh yeah?” Spencer asked, curious. 

Ryan frowned, as if he wasn’t certain what he wanted to tell Spencer, and when he started talking it was tentative, as if he was unsure of how to word it all. 

“Yeah, I was… with someone,” Ryan said, focusing on a crack in the pavement, pulling his sleeves down, “I thought we were-” he stopped, “we weren’t. He wasn’t who I thought he was, and I just couldn’t be there anymore. So I left.” 

“Just like that?” Spencer said, raising an eyebrow. 

“No, of course not,” Ryan said matter-of-factly, looking up at Spencer now, “we planned it all out and then moved.” 

“And William…?” 

“Wouldn’t let me go alone,” Ryan said, smiling suddenly, “he’s my best friend you know, we grew up together, practically attached at the hip since we were four years old. When I went to India, he almost followed me there, but someone had to look after the Academy.” 

“You were in India?” he asked, interested. 

“Yeah, pretty good experience, I learned heaps,” Ryan replied, but he looked like he was holding back. 

Spencer wanted to get in, find out. “So who was this guy?” 

Ryan instantly closed up again, pulling his arms in tighter to himself, looking away. “Nobody.” 

“Doesn’t sound like it,” Spencer said stubbornly. 

“He was- we were-” Ryan stopped and tried again, “I thought I loved him, that he loved me, but,” he shook his head and Spencer thought he’d keep going but he didn’t. 

“Sorry,” Spencer said, “I didn’t mean-” 

“No, you couldn’t have known, and it’s no big deal, it’s been a while, I should just get over it already, you know?” 

“No,” Spencer said. He was going to continue but there was a woosh and the train was there, ending their conversation. 

*** 

After the seventh yoga class Spencer came home with his skin buzzing. He hadn’t even thought that was possible. Spencer wasn’t very hungry, not for food anyway, so when he got home he got as close to Brendon as he could, pressing up against him where he was sitting on the couch, resting his chin on Brendon’s shoulder. 

“Hi,” Brendon said, “do you want me to get you-” He started getting up but Spencer pulled him back down with a hand around Brendon's bicep. 

“No, I’m good thanks.” He used the change in position to pull closer, press his lips to Brendon's neck. 

Brendon let out a laugh. “What are you doing?” he asked, tilting his head away, giving Spencer more room to move. 

“You taste good,” Spencer explained and Brendon let out another huff of laughter. 

“Oh yeah?” It was getting a little hard to breathe. 

“Mmm,” Spencer agreed, “like chocolate.” 

And here Brendon outright giggled, but then Spencer put a hand high up on the inside of his thigh and he went still. “Spence? What are you doing?” he repeated in a completely different tone. 

“What do you think I’m doing?” Spencer said, using this new leverage to move up Brendon's neck to his ear, and that soft spot hidden just behind his ear lobe. 

“The bed-” Brendon started, trying to move away. 

“Too far away,” Spencer said, insistent, moving down Brendon's jaw. 

“We’ve still got clothes on!” Brendon said, slipping down the couch back so he was almost horizontal. 

“We’ll just have to fix that then won’t we?” And Spencer pressed his lips to Brendon's full ones.

He felt Brendon relax underneath him, his arms coming up and around Spencer pulling him closer. Spencer slowly deepened the kiss, opening his mouth more, teasing at Brendon's tongue with his own till they were both panting. 

Brendon blinked up at him when they parted. “Okay, okay, we’re doing this, hang on,” He shifted from his awkward position till he was completely horizontal and underneath Spencer, and then he took off his shirt. 

Spencer grinned down at him. “Still want to go to bed?” 

“Are you kidding?” Brendon said, “I'm surprised you still have pants on.” And he started undoing the buttons on Spencer’s shirt. 

Spencer went down for another kiss, brief this time, before he moved down Brendon’s throat, wanting to cover as much skin as possible, dropping kisses on Brendon's neck and chest and shoulder. 

When Brendon was done with the buttons he tugged Spencer back up and pulled his shirt off, then started on their pants. 

“You could help, you know,” he said to Spencer, who returned to his mission of tasting every piece of Brendon’s skin he could reach. 

“This is so much more fun though,” Spencer said and bit down on his collarbone, but Brendon pulled away. “No marks,” he warned, “I have school tomorrow.” 

“You’ll just have to wear a tie tomorrow,” Spencer said, licking the spot and biting again. 

Brendon groaned and thrust up, bringing their newly freed cocks together. “We need lube- or something,” he said, voice faltering, his hands on Spencer's hips, holding him steady as he moved slowly against Spencer, the friction driving Spencer crazy. 

Instead of replying, Spencer took one of Brendon's hands and brought it to his mouth, licking a wide strip over his palm. 

“Go,” he said, releasing it so that Brendon could wrap his hand around both their cocks, stroking and moving his hips in time. 

It was clumsy and a little awkward but it didn’t take long before Brendon was crying out, eyes shut tight, coming in his hand and all over them. The sight of Brendon coming apart like that was enough to push Spencer over the edge too. 

When it was over Spencer buried his face in Brendon's neck. “We should probably go to bed now,” he said, “or else tomorrow could get painful.” 

He felt Brendon's chuckle reverberate through his body as he reached out, blindly looking for his t-shirt to wipe up the mess. 

“I’m just glad we didn’t get any on the couch cushions,” Brendon said, “that is _not_ a conversation I want to have with the dry cleaners.” 

Spencer laughed. “Tell you what,” he said, getting up, pulling Brendon up with him. “Next time, I’ll blow you.” 

“Next time?” Brendon asked as Spencer used their linked hands to lead Brendon to the bedroom. 

“Yeah,” Spencer said, “less messy.” 

Brendon grinned. He was not going to disagree with any part of that plan. 

*** 

The next morning, Spencer cleaned up after them, picking up the clothes that managed to get in the strangest places; Brendon’s pants were behind the couch, Spencer’s shirt was stuffed between the cushions and the couch back, and there was a shoe under the table, and one next to the TV. Spencer couldn’t even remember taking off his shoes. 

After that, Spencer had to run to make his train, but that was alright since his muscles felt loose and relaxed. He felt like he could probably do cartwheels if he wanted to. He didn’t try though. There were limits to his physical prowess and he knew it. 

But his light mood stayed with him, so much so that his office partner took notice. 

At first, it was just a few glances but then Butcher threw his pen down in triumph. “You got laid last night!” 

“What?” Spencer asked, trying not to squirm. 

Butcher’s real name was actually Andy, but he was just so good at what he did that every one called him Butcher now. Presumably, though, his mother still called him Andy, and probably the boss. 

“You totally did, you’re _humming_ ,” he said accusingly. 

“I was _not_ ,” Spencer said, aware that he might have been. 

“’fess up, you got laid,” Butcher said, getting up and moving around to lean on his own desk. 

“Okay fine, I had sex last night, and it was awesome, happy?” Spencer put his own pen down and crossed his arms. 

“Not really,” he said, shrugging, “because I didn’t have sex last night.” 

Spencer grinned in spite of himself. 

“Is that a smile? Hallelujah, we a have a smile!” Butcher said, throwing his hands in the air. 

Spencer wanted to hide his face. “Shut up, I smile!” 

“Not like this dude,” he said, “you’ve _changed_ , in a good way. You’re happier, more easy-going, and you’re sitting cross legged. What the hell, dude?” 

“I’ve been going to these yoga classes down the road, there’s this little place in front of St. Barbra’s station,” he found himself saying. 

“Yeah?” Butcher asked, looking interested. 

“Yeah, there are classes every day. I go in on Wednesday nights at six, do you want to come?” he asked, because Butcher was giving Spencer an expectant look. 

And sure enough Butcher grinned at the suggestion. “Yeah! If this is what it does to a guy, I am in.” 

Spencer grinned. “It’s been awesome, even the kink in my shoulder is gone.” 

“Dude, forget that. You got laid last night!” 

Spencer laughed and shook his head; there really wasn’t much else to do. 

*** 

Brendon was not stupid. Despite what people said, or the way he acted, he was in fact, smart. He noticed things. He noticed when a piano player missed a key, he noticed when one of his students wasn’t as active in the class as the others, and he’d notice when they longed to do something else. 

He also noticed how Spencer was better. That’s not to say that Spencer was broken before, but now he was _better_ , happier. Before, he’d toss and turn in his sleep, now he slept more comfortably. He used to be heavy footed; now he was lighter in his steps, he even sat straighter, and he was always loose limbed. 

It didn’t escape Brendon’s attention that it was most obvious Wednesday nights, when he came home from whatever training thing his work had. And seriously? What kind of training would a financial adviser need anyway? 

It had occurred to Brendon that maybe there was someone else involved in this change. But Spencer had gotten more handsy, closer to him, not farther away, and wouldn’t the opposite happen if he was- if there was someone else? So Brendon had eliminated that option. 

But there was still the question, what was happening and why hadn’t Spencer said anything yet? 

*** 

A week before it all went wrong, Spencer introduced Butcher to Ryan, who in turn assigned him to William. 

Ryan also got them to try something new.

“Today we’re going to be practicing the Ardha Baddha Padmottanasana. It’s also known as the Half Bound Lotus Standing Forward Bend.” Ryan said, “Watch me do it first, then you can try it out. As you inhale, lift your right leg with both hands and drawing the right foot up to the level of your left hipbone. Pull the right heel in toward the belly with the left hand, place the ankle on the upper thigh, and reach your right hand behind you to grasp your right foot.” 

He paused for a moment, and then continued, “As you inhale again, lift your left arm overhead and bend forward on the exhale. Remember to lean forward from the hip joints, not the waist. Place the left palm on the floor if you can, fingertips in line with the tips of your toes. Without forcing, draw your chin toward your shin.” He inhaled and lifted his left arm, and gracefully leaned forward on the exhale until his hand was flat on the ground; he held it for 5 breaths and slowly came out of the pose. “William and I will come around and help you individually if you’re having trouble.” 

Spencer tried. He really did, but he just couldn’t get it right. When Ryan came to help him, he pushed Spencer's feet closer together, told him to focus on a spot, bend his knee while he bent forward, but he just couldn’t do it. 

“It’s okay,” Ryan told him afterwards, “it takes time, certain parts are tighter than others.” 

“I know,” Spencer sighed, “it’s just frustrating.” 

“You’ll get it,” Ryan said, patting him on the shoulder, “maybe next week.” 

When he got home, he was so exhausted that he just went straight to bed. He registered the disappointed look Brendon gave him, though, and promised himself that he’d make it up to Brendon tomorrow. 

*** 

The sixth day before it all went wrong, Spencer went home early. 

He took off his shoes, tie and jacket and went into the kitchen where Brendon was at the stove, cooking dinner. Spencer got behind him, arms on his waist, mouthing his neck and earlobe. 

Brendon grinned and tried to move away from Spencer’s mouth but just ended up even closer to the rest of Spencer. Spencer chuckled as if this were his plan all along, and put his arms more securely around Brendon. 

Brendon gave up and laid his head on Spencer's shoulder. “Hi,” he said, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, “you’re early.” 

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed, “I felt bad for yesterday.” 

“You looked exhausted,” Brendon said, turning in Spencer's arms so he could search his face. 

“I was,” Spencer said, “but you know what I really want right now?” 

“Dinner?” Brendon asked. 

Spencer smiled but shook his head, “I want you to fuck me.” 

Brendon blinked at the sudden change. “What, now?” 

“Yes, on the kitchen floor,” he said, starting to work on Brendon's shirt. 

“We definitely need a bed for that, or lube at least, Spence-” 

But Spencer pressed their lips together, quieting him and picked up the olive oil from the counter, dangling it between them. “We can use this.” 

Brendon's eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything as he took it from Spencer with one hand, and reached around with the other to turn the stove off. As soon as it was done Spencer pulled him away and around so that Brendon’s back was against the opposite counter and went to his knees in one smooth movement.

“Oh God,” Brendon said, mouth going dry as Spencer started undoing his pants, freeing his already hardening cock. 

Spencer's blue eyes met his for a moment, then his lips were around him. 

Brendon tangled his hand in Spencer's hair, the other still holding the olive oil bottle. Spencer saw it from the corner of his eye and took it from him, placing it on the marble floor beside them. Then he started to suck in earnest. 

He was peripherally aware of Brendon gasping his name and then a hand was on his cheek drawing him back. 

“Not yet,” Brendon said, out of breath, “not if we’re gonna do this like you want.” 

Spencer grinned, laying teasing licks around the head of Brendon’s cock before he lay down on the floor parallel with the cabinets and started to take off his pants. Brendon sank to his knees, reaching out to help him pull them off, then grabbing for the olive oil and pouring some of the slick liquid on to his fingers. 

Spencer watched hungrily as Brendon spread it over his fingers, licking a stray drop before lowering his hand, eyes locked with Spencer's, and sliding two fingers into him. 

Spencer moaned and closed his eyes, bucking up so Brendon could get deeper, and soon there were three fingers, moving and sliding inside him. It was good, especially when Brendon touched him right there, but he needed more. 

“Brendon,” he ground out, aiming for coherency, “more, enough, I’m good, just _more_.” 

“Are you sure?” Brendon asked, his finger’s movements coming to a halt. 

“Yes,” Spencer moaned. 

“Okay, okay,” Brendon said, “hang on.” 

Spencer gasped softly as the three fingers were withdrawn. Brendon licked a long line up Spencer’s dick. There was pause as he slicked himself up, but before Spencer could complain, Brendon was pressed up against him, pushing in, agonizingly slow. When he was in to the base, he paused. 

“Bren,” Spencer keened and moved slightly, arching his back. 

“Okay,” Brendon breathed in to his skin, “you’re just so good.” Without warning he pulled out and drove back in, making Spencer cry out in pleasure. 

They set up a rhythm, Brendon above him, the floor unyielding below him, but he still needed more. 

He lifted his leg and it somehow ended up hooked over Brendon's shoulder, making things spark in completely new ways, so that the moment Brendon curled his fingers around Spencer's dick, he came, with bright lights behind his eyes. 

He felt Brendon's orgasm closely follow his and then it was all over, Brendon collapsing next to him on the cold tiles. 

“I didn’t even know you could do that,” Brendon said, still out of breath. 

“Neither did I,” he replied truthfully. 

“I don’t know what you’ve been doing,” Brendon said, “but I think it’s fantastic.” 

Spencer only stared at the ceiling. He thought that maybe it was almost time to tell Brendon about his Wednesday evenings. 

*** 

On Saturday, the fourth day before it all went wrong, they went shopping, as usual, and Spencer even cooked dinner. They brought back a movie and put it on after, the lights out so it was just like the cinema, but with Brendon cuddled against him, and a blanket pulled over both of them. 

Spencer thought of bringing it up then, but things were so calm and comfy that he didn’t want to ruin it. He promised himself he’d do it later. 

*** 

But later never came. The day it all fell apart started out normal. He woke up, started the coffee maker and went for a shower. He got dressed and then woke up Brendon, poured some coffee in his travel mug and left for work. 

After work he walked to the Academy with Butcher and they started the class. 

Uncharacteristically, their class finished early. Or Ryan ended the class early. Even William looked surprised at the announcement. Spencer watched them have a quick discussion in which William searched Ryan's face and Ryan waved him off, not meeting his eyes. 

Spencer looked at his watch, there were thirty minutes left until his train arrived. So he made up his mind and walked up to Ryan. 

“Hey, so I wanted to thank you,” he said. 

“What for?” Ryan asked. 

“You, uh, sort of improved my marriage.” 

Ryan smiled, but it looked kind of sad. “You’re welcome.” 

Spencer hesitated. “Maybe I could get you a coffee or something? Just as a thank you? My train doesn’t get here for a while...” he smiled, because he knew Ryan's train didn’t arrive for a while either. 

“There’s a place down the street called the Green Room that has great tea...” 

Spencer grinned. “Let’s go.” 

On the way out he caught a glimpse of William and Butcher. The lights were dimmed and they were both in the lotus position, knees touching. Butcher had his hands on his knees, William’s hands over them and William was whispering, leaning in close to Butcher, who had his eyes closed, nodding along, listening intently. Spencer smiled to himself and closed the door to the studio behind him. 

*** 

“So what’s up?” Spencer asked Ryan once they were in The Green Room. 

It was, indeed, green; there were plants in the corners, vines hanging from the ceiling, and even the walls were painted bright green, with a red swirling pattern in some places, to match the dark wood tables and dark red velvet booths. 

“What do you mean?” Ryan asked, picking up a menu, even though he knew what it said already, and what he wanted to order. 

“A class has never finished before the hour was up,” Spencer said, his eyes never leaving Ryan, “today it barely got to thirty minutes.” 

“Not much to do today,” Ryan said, shrugging, still looking at the menu though not seeing it at all. 

“Right, and I'm the Queen of England. What’s up?” he asked again before Ryan could reply. 

“Personal reasons,” Ryan said uncomfortably, shifting in his seat. 

“Oh yeah? That same personal reason you left Chicago for?” Ryan couldn’t hide his surprise. “You’re a little predictable,” Spencer explained with a little smile. 

“Not many people think that,” Ryan said, warily. 

Just then a waiter came to take their orders.

“Are you gonna spill?” Spencer asked, once the waiter was gone and they had their colorful tea cups. 

Ryan sighed and curled his hands around the warm glass. “It’s been four months since I- we, well, I broke up with Jon.” 

“What happened?” Spencer asked, voice low, “Why did you…?” 

“He was a photographer, took pictures of people and places for a magazine, the Puddle Jumper, you heard of it?” Spencer shook his head no. “It was more pictures than text. He asked me once, said that he’d like to do an article about my experience with yoga, but I said no. It wasn’t something I wanted to share with the world, my students were there for the serenity, not to be photographed and showcased. Yoga is not about that.” 

Spencer was nodding in understanding. Ryan could tell he was working through it all in his head, so he continued. “A couple of months later, maybe three, this article appeared and it had pictures of me, pictures I had thought were _private_ and he took them and splattered them over the pages for the whole world to see. I was so mad I just left. I started plans to open this branch and I was gone within the month.”

“What did the article say?” Spencer asked curiously, but it caught Ryan by surprise. 

“It was just stuff,” he said vaguely, “stuff I wouldn’t tell anyone, how my mom left my dad when I was three because he was an abusive drunk, how we came to live with my grandma, about my job before and about the article that ‘changed my worldview’, and how ‘yoga changed my life’” Spencer could hear the air quotes. “It was really well written, if it, you know, hadn’t been my whole life right there in his magazine. It’s not like I go around and tell just anybody that stuff.” 

Spencer cocked his head to the side. “Did you ask him about it?” 

“That’s not the point,” Ryan said emphatically, “I trusted him.” 

“Have you spoken to him since?” Spencer asked, still using that I'm-only-asking-to-know tone, “What was his explanation?” 

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “He’s called a few times, but I haven’t picked up. I know him and Bill still talk, even if Bill won’t own up to it, but,” he shook his head, hoping it’d loosen the tightness in his chest that grew every time he even thought about Jon. 

Spencer sat for a while, contemplating it, it seemed. “You have to hear him out,” he said finally, “I know it’s hard but there are two sides to every story.” 

“What if he breaks my heart all over again?” and wow, he hadn’t meant to say it like that. 

“Then at least you can get over him, and you’ll know he’s not worth all this,” Spencer said. 

Ryan must’ve still looked unsure because Spencer leant forward and put a hand over his on the table. It was strangely comforting. 

***

Spencer heard the door bell jingle, and he looked up to see Brendon standing there. Brendon was never the quiet type. But he only got as far as walking into the tearoom before stopping and then he stood at the door for a few minutes, just opening and closing his mouth, as if he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. It might've been funny if he didn’t look so goddamned hurt. 

“Brendon,” Spencer asked in shock, and stood up, “what are you doing here?” 

“I thought I’d come pick you up,” Brendon said faintly, “drove by-” 

He blinked a couple of times, and then just turned and left.

“Brendon!” Spencer called after him, but it was too late, Brendon was gone. Spencer ran out, “Brendon!” he called again, running after his rapidly retreating figure.

Then Brendon stopped, so suddenly that Spencer nearly crashed into him. The look that Brendon gave him was pure venom. Spencer shrank away. 

“What?” Brendon said, “What could you possibly say that will make this okay? I thought we were getting _better_. What? Is he like a training partner or something? Did he get you all hot and bothered and ready for it, or what? I don’t understand!”

“Yoga,” Spencer blurted, “Ryan's teaching me yoga.”

Brendon blinked at him, half amused, half disbelieving, still completely angry. “Yoga? Of all the lies, that’s the best you can come up with? Yoga?” 

“It’s the truth,” Spencer insisted.

Brendon shook his head, a hard look in his eyes, the one he reserved for when his parents were ignoring the fact that he was gay.

“Whatever man, I'm going home.” Spencer made to follow, but Brendon stopped him. “And don’t even think I’m gonna make this easy on you.” 

Spencer stood in the street, not knowing what to do as he watched Brendon walk to the car and drive away. He must've been standing there a while because Ryan's hand on his shoulder startled him.

“Sorry,” Ryan said, “I shouldn’t have-” but Spencer shook his head.

“It's not your fault.” But he was starting to get angry; with Brendon for not believing him, with Ryan for getting him into this, but mostly with himself, for practically walking himself into this whole mess.

“Are you...?” Ryan started and trailed off.

“I'm fine,” Spencer bit back, and cursed himself at Ryan’s flinch. “Sorry,” he said, running a hand over his face, “but I will be, I'll fix this.”

He caught the late train home and crept into the house. It was all dark; Brendon had obviously gone to bed.

He quietly took off his clothes and crawled between the covers. Brendon was curled into a tight ball, which meant he wasn’t sleeping, because he tended to take up more than half the bed when he did. Spencer pressed a soft kiss to Brendon's neck, just below his ear, but Brendon moved away.

“This bed is not open to you. The couch is though, I hear,” Brendon said, not looking at him. His eyes were wide open; Spencer could see the light reflected in them.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered, and left with his pillow. 

*** 

The next morning Brendon packed a few things, thinking maybe he’d go stay with Greta and Bob for a few days. 

He wrote a quick note and was about to leave when he spotted the guitar lying against the living room wall. He reached out to take it but then paused. If he took it, it meant this was permanent, or long term at least, and he didn’t want it to be. He just needed some _time_. 

Spencer shifted in his sleep on the couch so Brendon pulled back and went out the door, leaving the guitar where it was. 

He nearly tripped over someone sitting on their porch steps. 

“What the-?” he started before he realized who it was, the man from last night was unmistakable. He pulled himself together. “Spencer is still sleeping.” 

The man stood up. “Actually I came to see you. Brendon, right?” 

“So he talked about me, which means you _knew_ he was married and you still-” He cut himself off. This was hard enough as it was without imagining them together. “How do you live with yourself?” 

“No, no,” Ryan said, “I didn’t sleep with him, we just talked. I'm his teacher, I teach yoga-” 

Brendon rolled his eyes and kept walking, unlocking the car as he approached it, but Ryan followed. “You can’t be mad forever, it’s gonna come back and you’ll want to know, but it’ll be too late.” 

Brendon paused and Ryan caught up. “Spencer’s a good guy-” 

“I know he is,” Brendon interrupted, “I married him didn’t I?” 

“He deserves a chance-” 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Brendon burst out, “waltzing in with your stupid clothes-” 

“I didn’t sleep with him; he nearly punched me in the face when he saw you walking away last night.” 

Brendon pursed his lips. “So what do you want?” 

“Let me explain, or start at least, you need to sit down and talk with him, but I just want to show you, once you see, you’ll understand, I swear, I won’t take more than an hour, time it if you want.” 

“Fine, show me,” Brendon said and let Ryan lead the way to his own car. 

Ryan took him back to the train station, but when they parked the car, Ryan led Brendon up some stairs in the building across the street from the station. When he unlocked the door and they walked into a studio he started to believe, just a little. 

“This is my academy, or a branch of it, the central one is in Chicago,” Ryan said, “I teach yoga here with William, you’ll meet him in a second,” he led Brendon to a desk and pointed to the wall behind it, covered with a couple of certificates and a bunch of pictures in what looked like India. A more tanned Ryan stood smiling with a group of women in brightly colored saris, banana trees providing a lush backdrop. 

Other pictures depicted mountain ranges and forests, even a desert. They looked like something out of National Geographic, but Ryan was in all of them, smiling at someone behind the camera. Only one seemed out of place. It was a blurry picture: Ryan and someone else in front of a building with a sign reading The Yoga Academy. The brick façade was different from anything in this part of the city.

“These are what you might call my qualifications,” Ryan said, then walked around and pulled out something from the bottom drawer and gave it to him. It was a Polaroid picture of Ryan with another man, taking up the whole frame. The man was smiling at the camera and Ryan was laughing, looking at him. 

“What’s this?” Brendon asked, taking a glance and waving it back. 

“That’s Jon,” Ryan said, “I left him four months ago, I was so angry I just walked out. But I'm starting to regret that now.” 

“Okay...” Brendon said slowly, “I don’t see-” 

“Spencer convinced me,” Ryan continued, “that there are two sides to the story and that maybe I should hear them both before making up my mind.” 

“Spencer said that?” Brendon’s resolve was slowly melting away. 

“Yeah.” 

The door opened suddenly and another man walked in, so absorbed in his paper that he didn’t see Brendon. 

“Hey Ryan, Gabe was wondering if you- oh.” He looked up to see Brendon, “Sorry, I’ll come back later.” 

“No, Bills, come back,” Ryan called, “this is William. He helps me with the class, though he could probably have his own class if he wanted.” 

“And leave you all alone? You wouldn’t survive a day without me,” William said jokingly. 

“When Spencer came to us,” Ryan continued, “he could barely cross his legs properly.” 

William grinned. “Yeah, Spencer was a tough one, but we got him, nice guy. Married though, shame.” He pouted and crossed his arms. 

“William!” Ryan warned. 

“What? I'm just saying, it’s not like he’s gonna cheat or anything, I tried,” he grinned and winked at them. 

“Thank you, Bill,” Ryan said, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. 

“Any time,” William grinned again and made to walk away. 

“If anyone asks,” Ryan called after him, “I'm not here, I’ve been out all morning okay? We’re just leaving.” 

William gave him a thumbs up and left. 

“Come on,” Ryan said to Brendon and they left too. 

Ryan took him to the Green Room, and ordered something that looked like blue water. 

“You convinced yet?” he asked Brendon. 

“Sort of,” Brendon said, “I don’t see why he didn’t just tell me.” 

“Maybe he was embarrassed,” Ryan suggested, “most men are, you’ll have to ask him.” 

“I don’t know...” 

“He mentioned you yesterday.” 

“Just a mention?” Brendon asked, cynically. 

“Yeah,” Ryan said, ignoring the tone, “he said he wanted to thank me for improving his marriage.” 

“What-?” Brendon squirmed. 

“He didn’t say anything specific, just that things were better because of the yoga, I don’t know the details, it helps people in different ways.” Brendon tried to not roll his eyes. “We finished early so he just bought me a cup of tea. We talked.” 

“That’s it?” 

“That’s it. He asked why I ended the class early, I told him about Jon, he was sympathetic, but even if I had wanted more, he wouldn’t have it. He doesn’t seem the type.” 

“He’s not,” Brendon said quietly, “he punched a guy out in college once, big guy too, for telling him to ditch me and go with him instead. Messed up his wrist, couldn’t drum any more, said I had to marry him because I had killed the other love of his life.” He smiled at the memory. 

“So there you go,” Ryan said, “he _loves_ you.” As if that was enough to hold two people together. Maybe it was. 

*** 

Meanwhile, Spencer woke up sore. The couch was not the best place for rest and relaxation. It was okay though, because it wasn’t like he slept all that much anyway.

Brendon was gone. The bed was made, and a duffle bag and some clothes were missing, but the guitar was still there. Spencer took that as a good sign. There was a note too, on the bench top by the coffee machine. It didn’t say much, just that Brendon needed time. He didn’t mention how much and what he needed it for, but Spencer called in sick to work for the first time since he had started there five years ago.

He moped around the house for a while, but couldn’t take the silence, so he grabbed his keys and left.

There were a lot of things that he wasn’t sure about anymore. Where Brendon was for one thing, his future for another, how the hell he could fix this. There was one thing he was sure of though. He shouldn’t be standing on the second floor of this building, just outside the Yoga Academy. In fact, this was the last place he should be.

He knocked on the door, hoping that it wouldn’t open. But no such luck, it was answered almost immediately by William.

“Hey man, kinda early for class. Like six days early,” William said, grinning.

Spencer gave a small smile, despite everything. “Is Ryan here?” he asked.

“No, he left real early this morning, said he had stuff to do.” William winked, “Coming for a social visit?” 

“No,” Spencer said, the smile leaving his face, “Thanks, anyway.”

He left and stood outside in the sun for a minute, trying to come to a decision. What now? He didn’t want to sit in the car and he couldn’t stand going back home. He had nowhere to go.

“Excuse me?”

Spencer blinked and turned to look at the guy who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. He had dark hair and sunglasses, with a dazzling smile. “Yes?”

“Do you know where I can find the Yoga Academy?” he asked.

“You’re standing right in front of it. You go up the stairs and it’s just the door on your right. Who are you looking for?”

“Ryan Ross.”

Spencer sighed inwardly. “He's not there. Apparently he had stuff to do or something.”

“Oh,” the guy seemed to sag. “Do you know when he'll be back?”

Huh, that would've been a useful question to ask. “No, sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” the guy said, waving a hand and sitting down on the first step of the building. Spencer followed him down.

“Are you another student?” Spencer asked him. He hadn’t seen him before.

The guy laughed. “No way dude, can’t bend like that, it was more of Ryan’s thing anyway.”

“So how do you know him?”

“We dated.”

And that hit Spencer like a ton of bricks. “Jon.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, resting his arms on his knees. “I was a dick, I don’t know what he told you but I'm going to fix it.”

“Join the club,” Spencer muttered.

“What do you-”

“Jon?” they looked up to see Ryan standing six feet away. Just behind him was Brendon.

Spencer scrambled up. “Brendon, I-” he started, walking towards him

“No, Ryan explained some-” Brendon said, also approaching him, but when they met in the middle they both just stood there, not sure where to start. 

“We need to talk,” Brendon said, “like, sit down and actually _talk_.” 

“I know,” Spencer said, “maybe not here though?” 

Brendon nodded, tight lipped. “Let’s go home.” 

Spencer slid his hand in to Brendon's outstretched one, and they went home. 

*** 

When they were gone, Ryan turned to Jon. 

“Jon, what are you doing here?” 

“Ryan, I am so sorry,” Jon said, looking like he wanted to move closer. 

“Jon.” Ryan knew he sounded weary, but it wasn’t because of Jon. It was all happening at once. He had been thinking about calling Jon, but he had wanted to make sure that Spencer was alright first. But Jon was here now and Spencer was gone and really he just felt tired. 

Ryan walked up to Jon. The first thing he had noticed, even before Spencer left, was the beard, but as he got closer, he could see a healed scar just above his right eyebrow that he couldn’t remember seeing before, and the tired lines around his eyes that he was sure weren’t there the last time they had seen each other. 

He was about to ask again when Jon stopped him. 

“Ryan please, I’m sorry I didn’t come out to see you sooner, I’m sorry I missed the red light and got in a car crash, I’m sorry I didn’t try harder, I’m sorry about the pictures, I’m sorry you had to get so far, I’m sorry I’m such an idiot, but mostly, I’m sorry I let you leave the room.” 

“Jon...” Ryan said again, not sure of what to say, a little flustered and overwhelmed. 

“I'm _sorry_ ,” Jon said again, taking Ryan's hands in his own. 

Ryan bit his lip and frowned as his brain caught up with his ears. “Car crash?” 

“I broke my leg,” Jon said sheepishly, “Or tore something in my knee; I didn’t understand everything the doctors said.” He said it like it was no big deal. 

“I-” Ryan tried again, still not sure how to pick up the threads. 

“My roll of film was stolen,” Jon continued, sounding like he had to say it, had to let Ryan know, “They submitted it under my name, without me knowing, those pictures were for you, and you alone.” 

“The text, the writing-” 

“It wasn’t me, remember that fight, the big one?” Ryan nodded, he remembered all too well, he’d nearly slept with someone else. And Jon got completely plastered. “I never told you, it only made sense later, I wasn’t sure-” he stumbled over his words. 

“Jon,” Ryan said, trying to get him back on track. 

“I ran into Chris, I must’ve said all that stuff, I was mad! I was drunk and maybe a little high, I’m so sorry, I’ll never do it again, I left the _Puddle Jumper_ , I just want to be with you.” 

“Really?” Ryan asked, looking at their hands, wanting to believe it. 

“Ryan, I would never do anything to hurt you,” Jon said, “I love you.” 

Ryan looked up at him and finally smiled. “I think I'm in love with you.” 

*** 

The drive home was quiet, the silence heavy with tension. 

When they got home, they both sat on the couch. Brendon had two feet on the floor, occasionally jiggling one leg up and down. He kept his head bowed, seemingly fascinated with the fidgeting of his fingers. 

Spencer folded his legs, back against the armrest. He watched Brendon crack his knuckles, first his right, then his left. It was something he did when he was nervous. 

The ticking of the clock was really loud. 

“I wanted to tell you-” he started.

“I should’ve listened-“

“No.” Spencer interrupted, “It wasn’t your fault.” 

“I don’t see why you didn’t just tell me,” Brendon muttered, not looking up at him. 

“I felt like I couldn’t breathe, not- not because of you,” he explained, “but because of _me_ , the everyday rhythm got to me, and we didn’t talk any more, I felt like I was losing you and I didn’t want to think about it, and I didn’t know what to do.” 

“You only had to say something,” Brendon said, still quietly, “I would’ve listened. It’s how talking starts.” 

“I know, I just wasn’t sure if you’d understand, if I could explain it properly, how was I supposed to tell you without making you feel bad?” 

“This doesn’t feel better, you know,” Brendon said. 

“No, it doesn’t,” Spencer agreed grimly. 

Silence descended over them again. Even Brendon's leg was still. 

“I don’t know what to say any more,” Spencer said, “how do I make this better?” 

“It’s not terrible,” Brendon said slowly, giving a small, one sided shrug. 

“It’s not good either,” Spencer threw back. 

“It might take time,” Brendon said, glancing up briefly, “But you just gotta talk. You have to tell me stuff, even if you don’t think I’ll understand.” 

“I will-” Spencer said, leaning forward. 

Brendon took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. “And if you want some alone time-” 

“No, I was wrong,” Spencer said instantly, shaking his head, “I thought that’s what I wanted but it wasn’t.” 

“So what _do_ you want?” Brendon asked, a little exasperated. 

“You,” Spencer said without hesitation, “it’s always been you. I just wasn’t sure if you still wanted me.” 

Brendon turned to Spencer in shock, like he couldn’t believe that Spencer would think such a thing. “I will want you forever and ever.” He pulled his knees up on the couch and crawled towards Spencer, getting in to his space. He took Spencer's face in his hands and looked him straight in the eyes. “Forever and ever.” 

Spencer smiled, looked down. “Forever.” 

“And ever,” Brendon confirmed, and moved in to claim Spencer's mouth with his own. 

*** 

"You didn’t let _me_ go straight to the Urdhva Danurasana position when I first started,” Spencer pouted.

“You weren't as flexible as he is before you started,” Ryan explained.

“How do you know that?”

“Just _look_ at him,” Ryan insisted, “it’s there; he just has to utilize it. Besides, I got him to do the same stretches you did and he passed with flying colors. We had to start from scratch with you, you were stiff as a-”

“Okay okay, we get it, bendy, not bendy.” Spencer rolled his eyes.

“Are we starting or have you not finished chatting?” Brendon swayed towards them, away from the rest of the class. He’d spent way too much time with Bill, Spencer thought, maybe this was a good thing.

“Come on, Jon,” Brendon continued past them to pull Jon up from his place by the wall. “Put that thing away.”

Jon laughed. “If you insist.” he said, putting the tablet he was editing pictures on aside, and letting Brendon pull him up. 

*** 

Spencer was trying to hold the Uttana Padasana position, hands and feet together, knees and elbows straight but his thighs where on fire and he was starting to feel lightheaded, how did Ryan and Brendon make it look so easy? 

“Pssst!” he heard Brendon next to him, “Jon!” 

He heard a grunt from Jon, suggesting he was having trouble talking at the moment. 

“Ryan said you were looking for a job.” A pause. “The school I work for, they have an opening.” 

Another pause. “Yeah our art teacher just left, I-” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Spencer saw Jon release the pose in one go to lie flat on his back. “Oh my god,” he breathed. 

“I think it’s time to end the lesson,” they heard Ryan say, “take the Savasana pose, and relax, concentrate on your breathing.” 

When the class ended, Brendon was the first to stand. He made an arc till his hands were as far up as they could go, giving Spencer a peak of his stomach as his shirt rode up. 

“Are you okay?” he saw Ryan approach Jon, upside down, till he was next to him and Spencer could turn his head and watch them. 

“I’m fine,” Jon said, obviously lying. 

“I told you to start with the easy things first, the Uttana Padasana pose is not for beginners,” Ryan said. 

“Brendon was just saying something about a job,” he said, winking at Spencer, then turning to get up, leaving Spencer to lie on the floor by himself. 

“Yeah,” Brendon took the opportunity, “art teacher at my school. I got you an interview, Friday, 1:15.” 

“You teach?” Ryan asked. 

“Music,” Brendon said proudly, bouncing on his tip toes. 

“I dunno,” Jon said, “I’ve never taught before.” 

“Bring a portfolio,” Brendon said, poking him in the chest. 

“I’ll be there,” Jon said, grinning. 

“Where’s Spencer?” Ryan asked. They all turned to look at Spencer. He pulled his knees up and got more comfy. 

“What?” he asked them, “I’m relaxing.” 

Brendon smiled evilly and straddled him, sitting on his stomach. He wasn’t that heavy so Spencer didn’t mind. 

“Do you know what you look like?” Brendon leaned in, whispering, “lying on your back, knees up, breathing hard, thin layer of sweat all over you?” 

Spencer smiled a slow languorous smile at him, eyes half lidded. 

Brendon leaned in even closer and whispered straight in to his ear. “You look really well fucked.” 

Spencer leaned up just a little. “Maybe later, when we’re home, and alone, I‘ll let you hold me down, do what you want to.” 

Brendon's expression didn’t change, but there was a definite fierceness as he closed the gap between them. 

There was a knock at the studio door and a man walked in. “Is this the yoga class?” he asked.

“Yes, it is,” Ryan answered, walking towards him.

The man hesitated for a second. “Is it too late to enroll?”

“Not at all,” Ryan said, handing him the clipboard, and started giving him the specifics about time and cost.

“I’m Ryan, you’ll meet William in a second, he’ll help you in the beginning, until you work your way up to the class’s level.”

“I’m Gerard, Gerard Way,” the man said. 

Ryan smiled at him and led him over to William.


End file.
